


A Song Unsung

by hypnoshatesme



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Angst, Manipulation, Murder, and if you stop at 5 you can pretend that's it, otherwise, with some vaguely sweet interactions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 14:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30023520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypnoshatesme/pseuds/hypnoshatesme
Summary: "Excuse me?” The voice was too close and Gerry tensed, searched for its source. Somebody was standing next to him, tall and wearing a sweater that looked too warm for the stuffy bar, blond hair in a messy bun with loose curls falling into his face. He gave Gerry a polite smile, one that made it undeniable that Gerry was being addressed when he spoke again. “May I?" he asked, nodding at the empty stool.Gerry took too long to answer, but he didn’t know how. People, if anything, avoided getting anywhere close to him. They didn’t talk to him and neither did they ask to sit beside him."Sure, go ahead,” Gerry heard himself say, voice surprisingly steady considering his mind was already trying to find the catch in the question, to figure out how that friendly smile was a trap.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16





	A Song Unsung

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I do still have wips somewhere that don't include any (active) murder (attempts) it's just what I've been in the mood to write.

1.

Gerry was in his usual spot in the back of the bar. Watching, relaxing. Never fully, of course, but he liked those nights of being somewhere crowded where nobody paid him any mind in his half-dark corner. It was easier to unwind when music and chatter all around him drowned out his thoughts. Easier to forget, for a moment, who he was. Not that that would ever be possible, but Gerry made the best out of what he could manage.

He moved to the bar slowly - a deliberate effort, he found it difficult to walk slowly when he was used to running most of the time - to get something to drink. As usual, he lingered there and watched the people around him come and go, took pleasure in the change of perspective, mundane, normal. Everything he could never have. 

Gerry watched as people chatted to the bartender or to whoever they dragged along to the bar, or just waited for their order in silence, and tried to imagine living one of their lives. He’d try to imagine how it would be to not know of the dark things lurking in the shadows, how it would be to not be stuck in an endless loop of deliberately searching them out, catching what little palpable matter existed of them and bringing it to her only for her to barely give him a glance and go back to her study where Gerry avoided to go at all cost. 

He didn’t want to see what she did. Nor did he want to face all the books and objects he had collected for her over the years. They brought unpleasant memories, and if not, then the unpleasant awareness of how what he was doing was  _ wrong _ , so very wrong. Sleep was a luxury, and it never came for him on nights Mary summoned him to her study. And still, he’d wake up the following day and do her bidding, no matter how much he told himself he wouldn’t during the night. 

Gerry’s grip tightened around his glass. This was one of his few nights of escape, of freedom. He didn’t want to think about this. He wanted to pretend, to live the lie of a perfectly normal night out to its fullest. He looked around for anything that might distract his thoughts. Gerry was never talked to, which he guessed was what he was going for with how he presented himself. It was fine. Probably better this way. The stool beside him was free as always, and Gerry told himself the view didn’t make him ache somewhere deep down. He looked back at his drink, and pondered its lingering sweetness on his tongue.

"Excuse me?” The voice was too close and Gerry tensed, searched for its source. Somebody was standing next to him, tall and wearing a sweater that looked too warm for the stuffy bar, blond hair in a messy bun with loose curls falling into his face. He gave Gerry a polite smile, one that made it undeniable that Gerry was being addressed when he spoke again. “May I?" he asked, nodding at the empty stool.

Gerry took too long to answer, but he didn’t know _ how _ . People, if anything, avoided getting anywhere close to him. They didn’t talk to him and neither did they ask to sit beside him.

"Sure, go ahead,” Gerry heard himself say, voice surprisingly steady considering his mind was already trying to find the catch in the question, to figure out how that friendly smile was a trap. 

The blond’s smile grew as he sat down on the previously empty stool with a ‘thank you’ and ordered himself a drink. They sat in tense silence, or maybe it was only Gerry who was tense. It was a rarity for him to get this close to a stranger without it being for a fight. Or without it being, at the very least, initiated by Gerry himself. He felt out of his element, and tried to watch the stranger without making it too obvious. It was probably fine, probably meant nothing. But Gerry didn’t have the luxury of not being suspicious.

The other’s drink arrived, and Gerry was fairly sure that he had noticed Gerry looking because he gave him another smile, this time one with a bit of an uncertain edge to it. Gerry suddenly felt the urge to apologise, assuming that the nervousness probably had its source in Gerry’s scrutiny. Instead, he went back to his drink.

“I’m Michael,” the blond offered after another tense moment passed and Gerry looked at him, trying to evaluate his intentions. He didn’t look out of place, seemed comfortable enough. Gerry was fairly sure he had never seen him in this bar, but it wasn’t like new faces didn’t pop up pretty much every time Gerry found himself in it. He tried to relax, just a little.

“Gerard.”

Michael snickered, and Gerry raised an eyebrow, questioning. There was something apologetic in Michael’s smile when he said, “I’m sorry, you said that like it was a very unbecoming cocktail or something.”

Gerry hesitated, before saying, “I’m...not fond of the name.”

“Well, do you have any other you’d prefer?” 

Gerry frowned, looked back at his drink. The answer was yes, of course, but he had never shared it with anyone.  _ Gerry _ was the name he’d been holding on to for himself for most of his life, a vague memory of his father’s voice. There had never been a point to share it, nobody had ever asked him until now. 

”Gerry,” he mumbled, and it felt like volunteering a secret. He wasn’t sure if he liked it but Michael’s smile was friendly, eyes crinkling a bit at the edges.

“Pleased to meet you, Gerry.”

The corners of Gerry’s mouth quirked up at that, and he took a sip to hide his smile. ”Likewise.”

They sat in amiable silence and when Gerry finished his drink, he left for his table in the back with a mumbled ‘goodbye’. Michael returned it with a smile, and stayed at the bar.

2.

"Gerry?"

Gerry nearly jumped at the sudden voice addressing him. It had been a long day and an even longer evening and he had allowed himself to space out maybe a little too much, let the noise of the bar drown out his thoughts past the point where he would notice somebody approaching. Not that anyone ever approached. It was the reason he usually took the table at the far back where the light didn’t reach. But when he looked up now, somebody was standing in front of his table. Michael, looking, once again, apologetic, maybe slightly worried.

"Sorry, I didn't want to startle you.” He tried for a smile, but Gerry simply blinked at him, expression blank. Michael striking up a conversation with him that first time a couple weeks ago had been strange enough. Having him approach Gerry’s table, talk to him again, was borderline suspicious. And yet, part of Gerry felt strangely excited about seeing that smile again.

"Do you want me to leave?" Michael asked, tone uncertain.

"No. You can sit,” had left Gerry’s lips before he realised that he was going to say it. He frowned, confused.

Michael gingerly placed his hand on one of the other chairs, raising an eyebrow in question. Gerry nodded, ran a hand through his hair to cover up the weird flusteredness he was feeling.

"It's so dark here," Michael mumbled once he was seated and a couple seconds had passed.

Gerry nodded towards the ceiling, thankful for something to distract him from the unfamiliar situation. "The bulb's been broken for a while."

Michael nodded with a hum, brushed a curl behind his ear. He looked thoughtful, and Gerry wondered what was going on in his mind. Not necessarily a new thought for him, though usually Gerry wondered about people he didn’t even know the name of. So it felt a little different, in this case.

Michael gave him a smile - Gerry couldn’t remember seeing anyone smile this much before, certainly not at him - and asked, "How are you?"

Gerry considered the question for a heartbeat too long before settling with, "Fine." There was no point in honesty. And, all things considered, he guessed he wasn’t lying. He had been worse. It might have been a long, but at least it hadn’t been a particularly painful day. A bruised rib, probably, but no blood.

The silence stretched on as Gerry lost himself in it again. It only occurred to him a minute later that the appropriate thing to do was probably to return the question. Gods, he really didn’t know how to talk to people casually. He cleared his throat, but his voice was still strangely quiet when he spoke, "You?"

Michael sighed. He sounded tired, but there was still a smile on his face when he answered, "Same."

The silence that settled wasn’t strictly uncomfortable, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable either and soon Michael started to talk. The conversation was by no means a smooth one, but Gerry soon realised that even his often delayed and slightly awkward reactions were enough to make Michael smile and keep talking. They talked about nothing in particular, really, and Michael volunteered details about his day, his work, with shocking ease. It wasn’t the first time Gerry observed something like it. He had occasionally noticed how those with no reason to be careful, paranoid, even, would tell near-strangers whatever they wanted with no care in the world. 

As much as Gerry wanted to judge them for it, part of him was simply jealous. It had never been an option for him, the kind of life one would chat about in casual conversation, with strangers or friends. He wanted it desperately to be so, but Gerry knew all he could do was stumble through vague half-answers to lightly posed questions by Michael and hope Michael would let it slide and talk more about his office job. And Michael did. 

After a while it had a strangely relaxing quality to it. Gerry understood that Michael didn’t seem to care about how or if he answered his questions at all, and seemed happy doing most of the talking in their conversation. And maybe it was the strange cadence of his voice, maybe it was that pleasant smile on his lips and the way he gestured wildly when he got really into what he was talking about, but Gerry felt himself relax, a smile tugging at his lips.

When they parted ways about two hours later - Michael had started to progressively quiet down, sentences interrupted by the occasional yawn - Gerry had all but forgotten his earlier sour mood. It was a strange feeling, but he decided to revel in it before his thoughts would turn dark again.

3.

The next time Gerry saw Michael, Michael didn’t see him. Gerry was sitting at the bar again, let his eyes skim the room with no particular aim. Maybe they lingered when he glimpsed blond hair. It had been over a month since that night Michael joined him at his table and Gerry wished he could say that he hadn’t been thinking about it nearly every day since. It had been nice to have company for once and now Gerry found himself wishing to see him again. Probably not a good idea, but he couldn’t help the ache in his chest. 

Gerry found him a moment later, getting up from a table a couple people were sitting and laughing at. Gerry vaguely remembered him mentioning wanting to bring some friends along to the bar in the future. Gerry guessed that was probably more common than coming alone. 

It always fascinated him, to see people with their friends for the first time after having only seen them alone. They seemed more...real. More alive, like there was context, somewhere they fit into in the world, the awareness that everybody had their own complex life, had people to meet up with after work and on weekends, possibly a family they didn’t avoid at all cost. Foreign concepts. Gerry tended to forget about it, and ended up strangely surprised by seeing people in company he had previously only seen on their own. He avoided thinking too much about it.

Michael approached the bar and ordered, leaning against it right next to where Gerry was sitting. The easy smile was on his lips, and mirth in his eyes, and Gerry spoke without realising, “Michael.”

Part of Gerry hoped the general noise might drown it out as he suddenly felt flustered at speaking up at all. Michael’s head turned to look at him and his face lit up in recognition. Gerry didn’t know what to say, how to react. But Michael did.

“Gerry! It’s been a while, how have you been?”

There was a healing cut down the length of his thigh and the lingering taste of dirt on his tongue as Gerry breathed more deliberately than before. He always did after being reminded it was a luxury. Of course, he mentioned neither.

“I’m fine, you?” Gerry felt a little proud of remembering to return the question right away this time.

“Quite good. What have you been up to?” 

The question still alerted Gerry, despite the easy tone. He was never asked at all, and when he was it was never with no intent behind it. And it simply wasn’t something he could answer. So he shrugged, deflected the question with a vague gesture that reminded him of how sore his arms still were, and asked Michael the same. Again, Michael seemed unbothered by him avoiding the question, gave him an understanding nod before answering himself. 

Gerry wondered about those small gestures of reassurance, of understanding Michael obviously couldn’t have. It was difficult to not let them get to him, to want to lean into the quiet kindness in Michael’s eyes. Gerry was lonely.

Their chat seemed to go a little more smoothly this time. Gerry remembered, from last time, what to say or how to react in general to keep the conversation going. It still felt a little awkward, unfamiliar, but he at least felt less inept, less like Michael was probably struggling to tolerate his stumbling through something as simply as a conversation about nothing in particular.

Even after Michael’s order arrived, he lingered for a little bit, like talking to Gerry was somehow as fun as sitting with his waiting friends. Gerry tried to not pursue that idea further, and when Michael invited him to join them, he shook his head, and wished Michael a good night. 

“Enjoy your evening then, Gerry,” Michael returned with a smile, and Gerry thought it sounded genuine, and he didn’t know what to do with that, so he stayed sat in place as he watched Michael find his way back to his friends, drinks in hand.

4.

It was starting to get too cold for the park, but Gerry refused to let his few moments of peace pass by any other way. His days were always full, during the week, weekends, all the same. If he worked quickly, he got himself a free evening or night to sit in the bar far away from Mary and pretend his life was a different one.

A free day, however, was a miracle to come by and Gerry had, for the lack of ideas and possibilities, started to spend them in the park by the bar. Still far away from her, sketchbook in hand and headphones on. Sometimes there wouldn’t be any music playing, sometimes Gerry liked to hear the birdsong and the rustling of the trees, distant voices of other people. But he never took the headphones off, maybe a habit, maybe he simply felt better with the world around him dulled a little. It made the pressing awareness of how he didn’t belong more bearable. 

In a way, the park felt closer to the normal life Gerry had been denied and part of him feared to face it at its fullest, loudest, to hear the ordinary noises too clearly. So he kept his headphones on and the wind was starting to grow icy, but he still found himself an unoccupied bench and sat down to draw.

He didn’t know what made him look up - maybe he had recognised the voice, faintly, since the music had stopped a while ago - but Gerry found himself looking at Michael, a good ten or so steps away from Gerry’s bench and seemingly apologising to an old lady that was already moving along. Michael stayed behind, looking a little embarrassed, cheeks flushed with cold, hair wind-swept. Gerry only realised he was staring when Michael turned around and their eyes met. 

Michael looked about as surprised as Gerry felt, and they both seemed frozen for a moment. Michael raised a hand in greeting, and a smile took the place of the confused expression from before. Gerry mimicked him without thinking and then Michael was approaching.

Gerry motioned for him to sit once he arrived at the bench, because it felt like the appropriate thing to do, and closed his sketchbook. 

Michael gave him a patient smile, but didn’t say anything. Gerry raised an eyebrow in question and Michael furrowed his brows, vaguely pointed at his own ears - a little red from the cold, Gerry noticed - and it took Gerry a moment to understand what the problem was. He hesitated for a moment, before taking his headphones off. It didn’t seem as scary when Michael’s familiar voice would be drowning out the too-sharp noises of the park.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt…”

Gerry shook his head, put his sketchbook to the side. “It’s fine. I...uh, why are you here?”

It sounded like a strange question, something of Gerry’s inherent paranoia slipping into his words despite his best efforts to stay neutral. 

Gerry-- well, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to  _ trust _ Michael, but he liked his company and didn’t want to put him off by being unnecessarily suspicious about him. Except for the fact that Michael seemed determined to keep seeking out Gerry, he really hadn’t given him anything to be on edge about. Gerry had refrained from doing some sort of background check - it had taken him all his energy, and maybe he had at least checked whether some of the broad things Michael had told him added up. They did, and Gerry felt bad for finding out - but talking to Michael was relaxing, and if he’d be connected to any of the Fears Gerry would have probably noticed by now, whether he wanted to or not. 

Gerry wanted to allow himself to be a bit more at ease. “Sorry, that...that sounded weird, I just- uh...wasn’t expecting…”

Michael chuckled, nodded. “Well, same here. Seeing you in daylight was...a bit of a shock.”

Another chuckle, and Gerry watched as Michael’s eyes took him in like he was seeing him for the first time. Gerry was suddenly acutely aware of how tired he must look, of the fact that his hair was probably starting to get stringy from how long it had been since he had washed it. At least he was confident that the scratches on his neck were covered by the turtleneck.

“I was just taking a walk, really. Before the weather makes it utterly insufferable to do so,” Michael finally said, still sounding just a little distracted.

Gerry hummed in agreement. He stretched his fingers, starting to go stiff with cold. He didn’t know what to say.

“You were drawing?”

Gerry nodded, one hand coming to rest on his sketchbook protectively.

“I should leave you to it, then-”

“No.”

Michael looked surprised. “No?”

“I mean…” Gerry frowned. What  _ did _ he mean? What did he want? He cleared his throat. “We can walk, if you want.”

It came out half a question, which had probably been Gerry’s initial intention. Now it sounded like he was inviting himself along, and he bit his tongue, wondering if he should apologise. But Michael only smiled, pleasantly surprised, and nodded, getting up from the bench again. Gerry took a short moment to process before following his example, and then they were walking. First in silence, but soon They found their way back to the light chatter that had become their usual, and Gerry felt like he barely had to think of it anymore before speaking. It was getting easier, and it was making him strangely giddy.

They got coffee to help with the cold, but took it to go and continued their walk. It felt strange, too normal, too much like what Gerry assumed life for everybody else might be. He didn’t quite fit a pleasant walk through the park, a chat over coffee as they walked on, but Gerry pushed the doubts away. He was enjoying himself, and that much, at least, he wanted to allow. He had been starved of joy all his life. At least for a little bit, he’d let himself feel something like it as Michael burned his tongue with a hiss and Gerry heard himself chuckle.

Gerry had to leave an hour later, and when he turned around one last time, Michael waved with a smile. Gerry waved, too, before putting on his headphones and going back to where he never wanted to be.

5.

Gerry felt Michael settle next to him against the wall before he heard the mumbled ‘hello’. The world still felt slightly wrong from his work that week, slightly distorted. Delayed. A lingering sense of disorientation he couldn't quite shake. Gerry returned Michael’s greeting with a nod, switched his cigarette to his right hand so he could put the other one, bruised and scraped, into his coat pocket. He didn’t know why. Maybe to avoid questions, maybe in fear Michael would change his mind about talking to him if he saw it. Gerry didn’t want to think about it.

“Do you want one?” Gerry asked, nodded towards the cigarette between his fingers.

Michael shook his head. “I don’t smoke, thank you.”

“Hm…”

They stood in silence for a moment and Gerry felt Michael’s eyes on him, wondered what he was seeing, if he was looking for something. But even his usual curiosity felt somewhat dulled by how sore he felt, by the exhaustion that should’ve carried him straight to bed rather than the bar. He took another drag and leaned his head back against the cold wall behind him, looked up at the dark grey sky.

It was Michael who broke the silence, “Rough day?”

Gerry snickered at the idea of having but one rough day rather than his usual rough weeks and months and years. “Rough week,” he decided to answer, knowing full well the joking tone could only be understood by himself.

Michael nodded, leaned back next to him. "It's been a long one," he mumbled and he sounded tired. 

Gerry looked at him for the first time and Michael smiled, but his eyes looked like he could go for some sleep. Gerry sighed, put out his cigarette. "Lots of work?"

Michael seemed to consider for a moment before nodding. "Something like that." 

He shoved his hands into his pockets and Gerry realised he wasn't wearing a jacket and clearly starting to regret that choice. Gerry raised an eyebrow in question and Michael chuckled.

"I just thought I saw you slip outside and followed without really thinking.” He shrugged, looking up at the sky. “Guess I was afraid I'd miss you."

"Why?" Genuine curiosity let Gerry forget his exhaustion for a moment.

Michael shrugged. "We haven't really seen each other in a bit."

He said it casually, like it, in any way, answered Gerry’s question.

"We haven't," Gerry agreed, unsure of what it meant.

Michael looked at him with a smile. "I like talking to you when we do. It's nice."

"I...thank you," Gerry didn’t sound as struck as he was by hearing those words, but it was still obvious that he hadn’t expected it. He couldn’t imagine anyone considering him a pleasant conversation partner and having such a thing implied so blatantly was making the heat rise to his cheeks. He turned his head away from Michael, quietly mumbled, "I like talking to you, too."

It sounded too honest, felt too much like being vulnerable and real and Gerry pressed his lips together before he said anything else. He was too tired for this, too messed up by this week, his life. 

When he dared to look back at Michael, he was still looking up at the sky with a content smile on his face. He met Gerry’s eyes, a silent acknowledgement of the confession, maybe a thank you, and Gerry released a breath he had been holding, grateful Michael decided not to say anything more about it.

He did shiver, too obvious to not be noticable, and Gerry felt his lips pull into a smile. “Do you want to go back inside?”

Michael held his gaze for a moment. “Do you?”

Gerry shook his head. Inside had felt too much tonight, the noise getting to his already aching head too quickly.

“Then no.”

Gerry frowned.

“Like I said, we don’t see each other much. Wouldn’t want to cut this short...unless you want me gone?” There seemed to be some sadness in his voice and Gerry stared at him. Michael was a strange one, but the idea of him wanting to stay in the cold for Gerry’s sake made Gerry feel warm nonetheless. He didn’t understand why, but he didn’t want Michael to leave either, so instead Gerry got out of his coat and handed it over to Michael.

Michael looked confused, taken aback even. Gerry shrugged, trying to not let his thoughts catch up with him. Maybe this was a weird thing to do. Maybe he should have taken a moment to think about how appropriate this was. It was too late now, and he refused to back down.

Michael finally seemed to understand and gingery took the coat from Gerry’s uninjured hand, draped it over his shoulders. He settled into it, gave a small sigh, and Gerry asked, “Better?”

Michael nodded and gave him a grateful smile. They fell into comfortable silence, both clearly not in the mood to talk too much. It felt strange to Gerry, who was used to silence being oppressive, tense whenever he wasn’t alone. It had been the case the first time they had met. But now, it seemed fine. Gerry liked it, even, being silent but aware that Michael was beside him. It felt nice, and Gerry sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.

They parted ways some time later, when the cold was starting to get to Gerry, too, and they both seemed closer to sleep than to wakefulness. Mumbled goodbyes and thank yous were whispered with sleepy smiles on their lips, and went separate ways.

6.

It was loud. Gerry liked that, usually, but there had been some sort of sports event or something and the bar was packed and the noise close to unbearable. Even his table in the dark corner was taken and he glowered at the group celebrating around it from his stool at the bar. Michael had joined him a while ago and chuckled at his expression. Not that it was particularly noticeable, the surrounding noise drowning out his weird lilting laughter. Gerry was unreasonably upset about it.

Somebody shoved Michael out of their way to get to the bar and Gerry steadied him, one hand at his shoulder. He was so annoyed by the overall situation that the fact that he had just casually touched Michael without at least asking only registered a moment later and he quickly pulled his hand away with an apology. Michael waved it away and thanked him, as far as Gerry could tell over the hollering to his left. He sighed, motioned for Michael to lean in to talk before he was fully clear on what he was about to say.

He half-shouted into Michael’s ear, “I rent a room upstairs...if you want to escape this.” He gestured vaguely to their surroundings, and it was about then that he realised how that sounded. He quickly added, “I mean...not...if, uh...if you want to talk.” But it was too late and Gerry felt his face warm up. 

Generally, this was probably a strange proposal. Despite having met and talked a couple times, they were still pretty much strangers, weren’t they? He should have probably rather suggested outside, but it was below freezing tonight and even that wasn’t stopping the crowd from celebrating there, too. And Gerry really wanted to hear Michael’s voice again, had missed it in the last couple weeks where he had been too busy to even come to the bar. Who knew when they’d meet again? Gerry didn’t want to let this opportunity for a pleasant chat slip through his fingers.

Michael looked surprised, but then nodded with a smile that looked a little nervous. Gerry wished he knew how to reassure him of his intentions, but he didn’t, so he tried for a smile and jumped off the stool. He was already turning to leave when Michael’s voice reached his ear, “Should I bring the drinks?”

Gerry nodded abscently, mind already set on how to best navigate the mass of people between them and the door to the upstairs.

They pushed their way through and soon they were moving up the stairs, noise from the bar muffled behind the door. Gerry had been keeping the room for years now, a refuge, a haven, somewhere he could come when going home seemed particularly unbearable. The only thing that was truly his, even though it technically wasn’t. It was enough, it made him  _ feel _ like he had something, something beside Mary and her experiments and his constant retrieving of things for her. 

He had never let anyone inside, and hesitated for a moment when his hand was on the doorknob. In a way, this felt right. Behind that door was the only place Gerry could be  _ Gerry _ and Michael was the only person that called him by that name. Gerry opened the door and waved him inside. 

Michael looked at the small room, really only big enough for the bed, but smiled and pressed Gerry’s drink back into his hand. Gerry closed the door and led the way, sat down on the old mattress. Michael joined him, watched as Gerry brought his glass to his lips to drain it.

Gerry grabbed his arm when Michael cupped his cheek, half in comfort, half because he knew it made breathing even more difficult if he forced Gerry to face the ceiling. Not that it made much of a difference by now. Gerry's lips were turning purple and there wasn't as much strength in his grip as when he had started clawing at Michael’s arm earlier, when Michael had pushed him into the mattress so his convulsing body wouldn’t topple to the floor. Gerry’s grip now was still leaving red crescents on his skin, but it wasn’t drawing blood the way the grip had been doing a couple moments ago. 

Michael let him. It felt like the least he could do, the small compensation he could grant for the hurt and betrayal in Gerry’s eyes when the poison had started to cut off his breath and Michael had done nothing but watch, calm, patient, aware. Not as unfazed as he’d like, but Gerry was too busy choking to notice Michael’s lips pulling into a thin line. 

It had been too easy, really, all of it. The finding Gerry, the getting close, gaining his trust enough to be alone with him, and Michael hated it. He hated it when he barely had to do anything, when basically just being himself got him where he needed to be. Because that always made him  _ wonder _ , wonder how things might have been had they met under different circumstances. 

Gerry had been kind from the start, guarded, but nice. And he had crumbled too easily, desperately, and Michael knew the feeling well of being starved of contact, of connection, and he knew how to use it to get under their skin fast, and into their veins. He knew it all so well, and he hated it.

And now Gerry's pretty face was turning blue in his lap as he gasped breaths, gurgling and whistling, and his nails were starting to let go of Michael’s arm, as his wide, teary eyes were starting to lose focus and Michael hated every moment of it, but he had to stay to make sure he was dead. That, and it felt right, to bear witness to the whole process. Just so Michael could never forget what he did, so he would remember their faces, so they could haunt his sleep, a small and pointless revenge. They would still be dead. But it was all Michael had to offer, and he always made sure this small vendetta would be granted, no matter how often Gertrude complained about him taking too long, about him lingering. 

He usually followed her instructions as closely as he could, but this Michael needed for himself. No matter how much he hated watching them fade under his gaze, he refused to not bear witness to his own sin. In a way, it was always reassuring to be reminded of how right he was in hating himself.

And Michael was hating this right now even more because Gerry hadn't been what he had expected at all. He hadn't been another Mary Keay, no calloused cruelty in his face - Michael had only ever seen her once, from across the room, and the coldness in her eyes had made his blood run cold - no attempt to have Michael volunteer any information about possible books, not even an attempt at trying to find out if Michael was aware of their existence. 

Gerry's eyes had been warm and honey gold in the light of the bar when Michael had approached him the first time and they had only grown warmer the following meetings, softer, more alive. His whole face had, really, from that deep exhaustion, weariness Michael had found in his frown turning to tentative smiles and shy laughter, as beautiful as the sound of his voice when he talked, a natural smoothness to it, honey-coated. 

Michael caressed his cheek as his body convulsed again, probably for the last time. It was a lot weaker than before. Michael wanted to soothe, ridiculous as it was, and he knew there was no point to it. Gerry was as good as dead. Words still tumbled over Michael’s lips, voice thick with sadness, "It's nothing personal, darling." More quiet, mournful, guilty, "I'm sorry."

Gerry’s eyes widened a fraction, and he looked so very hurt, pained, and Michael wondered if his words were making it worse. He pressed his lips together in silent apology and gently brushed a tear making its way down Gerry’s cheek away.

The convulsing stopped and then Gerry’s head lay still in Michael’s lap. It was the unnatural stillness of death Michael knew well, had been waiting for, but it still felt like the twist of a knife in his gut. He caressed Gerry's cheek for a little longer, imagining he would be doing so with Gerry still alive, in some parallel universe where Michael had approached him at the bar with honest intentions and they had still hit it off as great as they had in this universe where Gerry’s now empty eyes were staring up at Michael’s, accusing, blaming, none of it. Michael wished it were one of those, anything, because that would mean Gerry would still be alive and they would still have the opportunity to feel out their acquaintanceship, see where it would lead. 

Michael sighed, or maybe whimpered, and moved Gerry's head out of his lap and onto the bed to get up. He closed Gerry's eyes gently and said a silent prayer to whatever might hear him. Not for himself, but for Gerry.

He left the room a couple minutes later, a lump in his throat and tears on his cheeks, shed for things that had never been and would now never be, and for that beautiful man with a sweet smile and tender eyes that had let Michael in too easily, had trusted him only to die by his hand. It didn't feel right, and Michael felt heavy as he disappeared into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> You can thank the ~tender asks~ post on tumblr for this and also Ennie who played along as I lost my mind about why the fuck that post included "poison" as one of the options, considering poison is generally not something that comes to my mind when thinking about tenderness. Alas.


End file.
